Jorge

“She said fingerprints ruin them!” mutters Jorge.

“That’s crap,” says Dina. “It’s the coolest feeling in the world, but they want to keep it for themselves! I’ve touched them before, plenty of times, and nothing bad happened. Cave guides are selfish bastards.”

He squints at her. “Are you sure–”

“Now!” she whispers. “While she’s not looking!”

Jorge leans over and presses his fingers against the stalagmite. It feels exactly like a cold, wet rock; when he jerks his hand back, there are four distinct impressions on its side. He stares at Dina.